


Scars of Valor

by Kale-y (PechoraFlow)



Series: Promptober 2020 [12]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: But also, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed Not Being an Asshole, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, such a good tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y
Summary: Connor's been missing for five days, but finally, the DPD manage to locate him. Hank demands to be allowed on the rescue mission, but he can't shake the feeling Connor might be broken beyond repair.He just hopes he isn't too late.---Prompt: Loss/ReunionI wonder which it will be...
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo, Hank Anderson & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Markus
Series: Promptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947931
Comments: 21
Kudos: 192





	Scars of Valor

**Author's Note:**

> Am I behind in Promptober and skipping around? Yes! Are you going to complain? Probably (hopefully) no!
> 
> Mafia AU is killing me slowly you guys but it’s almost done, I promise <3

Five days.

Five days had passed since Hank had been awarded the Medal of Honor. It sat somewhere on his dresser, forgotten.

Four days had passed since Hank had come home alone, formal jacket over his arm and dark circles under his eyes. Four days had passed since Hank had come _this close_ to socking Gavin in the jaw.

Three days had passed since Jericho had gotten involved, sending out an alert for all androids to be on the lookout for an RK800 model. Three days had passed since Markus had shown up at Hank's door, at first attempting to offer comfort but needing it for himself, in the end.

Two days had passed since they finally identified the three behind the attack. Two days had passed since they had identified possible motives for kidnapping Connor, as this was clearly a targeted attack.

A day had passed since they found all of the locations possibly connected to Mackey, Dunn, and both Wilsons.

A few hours ago, they had confirmed that Dunn and Wilson were spotted going into an abandoned hotel near the port, and a team mobilized to go in. Hank, of course, demanded that he be included on the team, and Fowler agreed - so long as he promised to stick with Reed.

 _Reed,_ of all people.

But he didn't argue. Finally, Hank felt like he was actually getting off his ass and doing something concrete, besides sitting at his desk and gathering data on the three culprits who had taken Connor while he was _in the same room._

The intelligence they had gathered reported activity on the fourth floor, in room 408. As there were two sets of staircases, the team split, with Officer Chen leading the team up the north staircase and Reed leading the team up the south. Technicians and EMTs stood by, ready to move in once they had located the suspects and Connor.

Hank prayed they wouldn't be needed. If Connor had been...

One of the officers opened the door to the staircase and Reed glanced over his shoulder at Hank. "You sure you can make it up four levels of stairs, Hank?”

Hank shot him a glare. "Move your ass, Reed.”

Reed chuckled to himself, satisfied with getting a reaction out of Hank. Whatever; let him have his fun. Hank adjusted the straps of his bulletproof vest, semi-automatic pistol gripped securely in his hand. It wasn't his trusty revolver, but he wanted the quick reloading time if things went south. They knew who was mainly involved and that Connor had been taken here, but otherwise, they were pretty much going in blind.

"Alright, let's _move_!” Reed ordered. He ducked into the stairwell and started climbing, keeping his own weapon at the ready.

Hank followed suit, tempted to take the stairs two at a time. He resisted the urge, taking care to pace himself.

First floor…

The door to the parking lot shut quietly, but the sound echoed up the empty stairwell.

Second floor…

The sound of boots and jostling gear filled the staircase, but no one spoke.

Third floor…

Fourth floor.

Reed eased out into the hallway, gun aimed downwards as he looked around. Hank followed close behind.

From what Hank could tell, the hotel was fairly standard. The carpets were a dirty maroon, and the walls were faded beige. The hall lights were off, but the windows on the each end of the hallway let sufficient light in. Reed turned on the flashlight on his vest's shoulder anyways, further illuminating the space.

At the other end of the hallway, Chen's team emerged from their stairwell. Responding flashlights clicked on as the two teams eased toward each other.

They met at the middle of the hallway, right outside of room 408. Two of Chen's team moved forward, carrying a battering ram between them.

Moving in sync, they swung the battering ram back, forth, back-

They pushed it forward, and the door flew inwards. Reed instantly moved into the room. "Detroit P.D.! Hands up! Get your hands up right now!”

Chen entered right behind Reed, echoing similar demands. Hank came in behind them.

Reed ducked as something was thrown at him - an empty plastic water barrel, hauled at him by Dunn, who was reaching for a revolver on the desk in the corner. He and Chen grabbed Dunn, subduing him as fast as they could.

Another person made for the gun - Wilson. Hank held up his own weapon. "Don't even fuckin' think about it.”

Wilson froze, glaring at Hank, but saw that she was outnumbered and put her hands up.

Two officers in full tactical gear moved past Hank, quickly handcuffing Wilson and marching her out the door.

And just like that, the raid he had waited five days for was over.

“Lieutenant!" Upon hearing his title, Hank turned around, seeing an officer poking her head out of the bathroom. "Found Mackey. And Connor.”

That was all three of them, then. Hank holstered his pistol as he moved across the room, heart stuttering as he overheard a nearby officer on the radio.

"EMTs can stand down. No medical attention required. But send the technicians up immediately.”

 _No._ Hank sped up, barely noticing the officer that had called him over when she moved out of his way.

His eyes fell on Connor, handcuffed and sitting in what would have normally been a white tub. His face was angled down, but his LED sluggishly flashed red, illuminating the space in scarlet. A bucket full of blue blood sat next to him, outside the tub. The kidnappers had chained his wrist up so that, once they _fucking tore open his arm_ , the Thirium would naturally drip into the bucket.

Hank stumbled into the small room, which was illuminated by two lanterns that the kidnappers had brought in. Falling to his knees beside the tub, he put his hands on either side of Connor's face as gently as if he were lifting porcelain. "Connor? Connor- son, look at me. Can you hear me? Connor?”

Connor's eyes roamed around, unseeing and glazed over. He seemed to slowly gain some form of awareness. It took him a few moments, but his eyes settled on Hank's face. He said nothing.

Hank looked him in the eye, ducking to maintain eye contact. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? You're goin' home.”

Now that Connor was looking up at Hank, the police lieutenant could make out more of the damage than he could before. Connor was still wearing the white shirt, black pants, and black dress shoes that he had been five days ago, only now, the collar of his shirt was blue from leaking lacerations on his throat. There was a trail of something black and sticky down his chin and down the front of his shirt.

Connor's breathing suddenly hitched. He choked, head sinking back down to his chest. Flecks of black liquid spattered out of Connor's mouth- was he _sick?_

Hank felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, please move.”

Somebody grabbed Hank's arms and pulled, causing him to stumble to his feet or risk falling backwards. He was out in the hallway before he regained his footing, and as soon as he had his balance, he whipped around, fully prepared to deck whoever thought they could drag him away from Connor when he so obviously needed help.

Reed flinched and ducked instinctively, fully expecting Hank to throw the punch. " _Shit-_ Hank-“

"Don't you fuckin' touch me,” Hank growled.

Reed kept his hands up in surrender. "Technicians needed to get in there. You were in the way.”

Hank turned back around, mind catching on the word “technician". Sure enough, three of New Jericho's technicians were squeezed into the small bathroom - Simon among them. The blonde PL600 stood slightly back, out of the way of the other two.

"His Thirium levels are dropping fast," Simon reported. "How is the damage to his arm?”

"Repairable, but it's going to be a patch job,” a female android with short brown hair said. She was already clicking the damaged plates back into place and wrapping them together with duct tape. "It'll need to be completely redone once we get him out of here and back to New Jericho. Face plates were cracked, but his self-repair program took care of most of it.”

"What about the other damage?” Simon asked, looking to the other android - a male android with long black hair tied back.

"Thirium is likely still contaminated, but he's purging it on his own,” the male android said. "I'm worried about him trying to purge whatever we put into him - program history indicates he's been purging contaminated Thirium for days. His voice box is missing, too.”

Hank's gut clenched. A missing voice box? “Purging Thirium”? What had they done to him? What could they have been using him for?

"I've found the voice box,” Simon said, bringing Hank back to the present. "Is he safe to transport?”

"As safe as he's gonna get,” the female android said. "Frank, can you carry him on your own?”

“Yeah," the male android - Frank - responded. "Yeah, he's built to be lighter than us, and he's low on Thirium. Shouldn't be heavy at all.”

The female android stepped back to join Simon, stuffing the duct tape into a somewhat unprofessional-looking bag. She left the bathroom and went out of the hotel room, into the hallway. Simon exited the bathroom, then gently pushed Hank and Reed out of the way.

Frank maneuvered out of the bathroom, taking care not to hit Connor's head on anything. Connor himself was limp and almost unresponsive as he was carried. He stared straight ahead, his arms limp.

Soon, Frank was out in the hallway, moving towards the northern staircase with Connor in his arms and the female technician in tow.

Simon turned and looked at Hank as he was backing out of the hotel room to join the other technicians. "Lieutenant Anderson, you're his emergency contact. Would you like to ride with us or drive to New Jericho on your own?”

Hank opened his mouth to respond, but Reed made the decision for him. He pushed Hank's shoulder lightly. "Go on. I'll let Fowler know you're with him. Tina can drive your car back to the station.”

For a moment, Hank did nothing. He blinked at Reed, stunned. “You…” He regained his self-awareness and dug his keys out of his pocket. "Yeah. Okay. And Fowler can have this back, too.” He unclipped the semi-automatic in its holster and handed it to Reed, along with the keys to his car.

He hurried to follow Simon out of the hotel room, but before he disappeared from view, he looked back to thank Reed. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "You better not fuckin' scratch my car!”

"You're _welcome_ , asshole!" Reed yelled after him.

* * *

New Jericho had been set up in an old mill that had passed from buyer to buyer in recent years. There was plenty of space, plenty of rooms to convert for this or that. And, most importantly, it was private. From what Connor had told him, Hank knew that Markus had his eye on the CyberLife Tower for its security and resources, but they had to wait for the company to go under, first. It was close, but not quite there yet.

Hank sat in the corner of the room the technicians had set up as a sort-of preliminary android hospital, trying not to pay close attention to Simon, Frank, and the female android (who he had learned was named Petra).

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from sneaking glances at Connor, who lay still on the table. They had put him into forced stasis, saying something about his code being corrupted and his systems rejecting Thirium if he was online.

His eyes were closed as they worked on him, welding his skin back into shape so that he wouldn't _bleed out._ Simon had said that whoever had done this knew at least a little of what they were doing. Something about it being mostly cosmetic damage and damage to his Thirium tracks…

Markus had come in at some point, looking like he was going to say something until his eyes fell on Connor. He looked away, then moved to sit next to Hank and wait.

They sat in silence for an hour, with nothing but the technicians' voices and the sound of machinery filling the space.

A text _pinged,_ drawing Hank's attention. He managed to look away from Connor long enough to read the text.

**_JEFFREY_ ** _  
ANY CHANCE CONNOR HAS HIS MEMORY RECORDED? HE WOULDN'T HAVE TO GIVE A WITNESS STATEMENT IF WE HAVE VIDEO_

Hank wordlessly showed the text to Markus, asking a silent question. Markus's eyes read the text in a second.

“Yeah," Markus whispered. "He should have it on file.”

Simon glanced over to the two of them. "What's on file?”

“D.P.D. needs Connor's statement,” Markus said, a little louder. "Can you copy his memory file from when he was taken to when he was rescued? I can forward it to Captain Fowler myself.”

Simon frowned. "That seems like an invasion of privacy.”

"We can wait and ask him when he wakes up,” Markus acquiesced, "but then he won't be able to just go home and recover. Giving the police his account now will give him a break from everything that happened.”

Simon grimaced, thinking. Hank could tell he wasn't happy about the idea. "That's Connor's choice. If he doesn't want to share the video file of him being captured and tortured, that should be his decision.”

Hank's gut clenched, but instead of anger, he just felt an empty sort of hollowness.

Connor had been _tortured._ The thought made his hands shake, made him want a drink for the first time in three weeks. Connor had had his voice box removed, and who knows what the hell they did to his programming or what the black sludge was.

He didn't know if he wanted the answer, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to know.

"Can you tell what they did to him?” Hank asked, his voice croakier than he had anticipated.

Simon moved away from the computer he was monitoring, crossing his arms in front of him. "I...have an idea. Connor probably knows better than I, but… If I had to guess, I would say they set him up as some sort of purifier for contaminated Thirium. The contaminant we found in his systems is a chemical that keeps Thirium from evaporating for long periods of time. It can be purified, but it usually takes significant manpower and a couple of days for a small amount. Based on the number of times Connor's systems issued the ‘purge' command, I would say he can purify Thirium at least thirty times faster - it's a side function of his analysis sampling software and hardware.”

"So you think these three were using him to take out the preservative, is that it?” Hank checked.

"It's my best guess,” Simon returned. "Though, I don't understand why they would need Thirium…”

"Red Ice,” Hank said. That was an easy conclusion - two of them had drug possession charges (only, for Wilson, it hadn't gone on her official record, but Hank was a desperate and thorough man when the time called for it). "Requires pure Thirium. Either they were makin' it or they were sellin' it to someone else who makes it.”

Markus's fists clenched. "They used him as a machine for money.”

“Simon?" Frank called.

The blonde PL600 looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself and turned to go help the other technicians.

Hank put a hand on Markus's shoulder. "He'll be alright,” he said, eyes locked back onto the technicians hiding Connor from view. "Simon knows what he's doing.”

"I know,” Markus said, but then he fell silent.

The two of them sat in silence as the technicians worked.

Hours passed.

When Connor was gone, Hank knew exactly what time of day it was and how long Connor had been missing. Time passed at a steady pace, and clocks in every room mocked him, as each minute that passed was another minute that Connor wasn't home, wasn't _safe._

Now that he was there, in the same room, time slipped past, sometimes moving slowly and sometimes disappearing in the blink of an eye. The room was windowless, so he didn't even have a rough idea of what time it was. It could have been late in the evening, for all he knew, or it could have been the next morning.

Regardless, time passed.

Finally, Simon walked back over to them. Hank immediately stood up straight, ignoring the protests of his back muscles. Beside him, Markus did the same.

"He's okay,” Simon said, predicting the question on Hank's mind. "We've repaired the internal and external hardware damage, and we isolated the paralyzing virus in his software and removed it. His Thirium levels are back up, too. He just needs to run a few calibration tests and he'll be all set.”

A day. It had only taken him a day to heal. It almost seemed too good to be true. Hank let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the overwhelming wave relief almost making him dizzy. "He's okay?”

Simon smiled. "He's okay.”

"Is he awake?” Hank's voice betrayed how desperate he felt, but he didn't care. All he could even _think_ about was getting to Connor, hearing him talk, seeing the light of recognition in his eyes.

"We're bringing him online now,” Simon said, backing up and gesturing for Hank to follow. "We thought the first face he will see should be a familiar one.”

Hank began to follow, then remembered that he had been sitting next to someone, wallowing first in grief, then in hopeful anticipation with him. He looked over at Markus.

The deviant leader smiled, his eyes showing nothing but understanding and relief. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. Connor would want to make sure you are alright.”

Hank simply nodded at him, the gratitude surging and disappearing a moment later. His thoughts were solely on Connor, and had been for a little over a week.

He moved towards the operating table, almost outpacing Simon, and stood on Connor's right. The android detective looked ten times better than he had in the hotel. He still wore the ruined uniform pieces, but the blue Thirium had evaporated from his collar. The black substance that had been on his lips and chin had been wiped off, and his LED pulsed a calm blue instead of red. His arm had been repaired along with his throat, but the skin on both areas seemed to glitch, leaving barely noticeable scars in place: a long “I" shape on his forearm, and a “[" shape on his throat.

"Let's wake him up,” Simon said.

Somebody typed something, but Hank kept his eyes on Connor, on the blinking blue LED.

The only warning they had was the switch from blue to harsh red.

Connor shot up with a gasp, startling the technicians that were gathered around the table. His eyes fell on the nearby bags of blue Thirium and he made a distressed sound, scrambling backwards.

“Connor!" Hank tried, but Connor's eyes were wild. He fell off of the table he had been laying on, the wires monitoring his health disconnecting.

"N-No, no- _stay away!”_ Connor yelled, pushing himself backwards so that he was up against the wall.

Hank, crouching low, followed him but made sure to give Connor some room. "Connor, you're alright. You're safe. You're not with them anymore.”

Connor breathed heavily, but said nothing.

Hank risked taking a step closer, then another one. "Look at me, son. You're alright. You know me.”

Connor did as Hank said, settling his eyes on the lieutenant's face. Awareness and recognition returned to his eyes. “H-Hank?"

“Yeah," Hank said, trying his best to keep himself from tears. He took another step closer - close enough to reach out and grab Connor's hand, but he refrained from doing so; overwhelming Connor was the _last_ thing they needed. "It's me. You're in New Jericho, son, you're safe _.”_

Connor covered his mouth with a shaking hand, stifling a sob. He quickly hid his face, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly. Hank took another step closer, setting a hand on Connor's arm. “Con-"

In an instant, the breath was knocked out of his lungs. Connor threw his arms around Hank's middle, hiding his face in Hank's shoulder. Hank caught him, one hand cradling the back of Connor's head and the other rubbing Connor's back, his thumb tracing the deviant's spine. He could feel Connor trembling, softly crying in his arms.

"It's alright,” Hank soothed. "Simon got you all fixed up, and we arrested all three of them this morning. Wilson, Dunn, and Mackey - they're not gettin' close to you any time soon.”

Connor took a shaky breath. "Is Markus here?”

"I'm right here, Connor,” Markus said. Hank looked up and saw the deviant leader crouched close by, but obviously wary of intruding.

Connor twisted away from Hank, but stayed close, maintaining a grip on Hank's jacket. "I know the DPD wants my statement. Can you extract the video file from my memory storage and send it to Fowler?”

Markus glanced at Hank, uncertainty in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to-“

"Please just take it,” Connor said. He leaned heavily against Hank, holding out his uninjured arm and retracting the skin from his hand. His palm glowed blue in an open invitation.

Markus took Connor's hand, his own synthetic skin retracting and his chassis glowing. Hank couldn't see what they could, but from the way Markus's eyes watered, he could guess what was passing between them. He'd seen a glimpse of it himself, back at the hotel.

He didn't know if he'd ever be able to forget the sound of dripping Thirium, the smell of chemical preservatives, and the sight of Connor, unresponsive and haggard as his LED blinked red.

It spun a fast yellow, now. Connor tightened his grip on Hank, and Hank rubbed Connor's back in response. "You're alright,” he said, because there was nothing else to say; nothing else mattered. "You're alright. You're not there.”

A moment later, Markus and Connor's hands stopped glowing. Immediately, Connor pulled his hand back, latching onto Hank's jacket instead.

“Connor-" Markus started, but he trailed off. Hank could feel Connor's shaking breaths as tremors wracked his frame. Markus wiped the tears from his face before they could fall. "I'll send this to Fowler, and request time off on your behalf, Lieutenant.”

"Thanks, Markus,” Hank said. The deviant leader simply nodded, then stood and moved back, moving towards the door so that he could give them privacy.

Simon stepped forward. "Connor, we just need to run a few calibration tests, then you can go home. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes.”

Connor didn't answer, but at least his LED wasn't red.

Simon looked at Hank in a way that clearly said, _"A little help here?”_ He didn't need one of those internal phones that androids had to receive the message loud and clear.

Hank patted Connor's back a few times. "C'mon, son, let's go.” He moved to stand up, but froze when Connor let out a noise of distress and pressed his face to Hank's collar. "I'm not leavin’," Hank assured, "but you need to get checked out. You can hold my hand the whole time if you want, and then we can go back to the house. I know Sumo's missed ya.”

 _That_ caught Connor's attention. Connor moved back slightly, enough to look up at Hank. “Sumo?"

"Yep. Do it for Sumo,” Hank encouraged.

He could practically see the gears turning in Connor's head as he weighed his options. It took him a few moments, but eventually, Connor made up his mind. “Okay."

“Great," Simon said, offering a hand to Connor to help him stand up. "We just need to test your hand-eye coordination, your balance, and calibrate your hands, and you'll be all set.”

Once Connor stood, he wouldn't let go of Hank's hand. He walked around the room with the technicians keeping a watchful eye, then calibrated his right and left hands individually with a coin Hank had in his jacket pocket, making sure that he was always in contact with Hank.

When they needed to test both his hands, Hank sat next to him on the operating table, keeping an arm around Connor's shoulders. The deviant detective leaned into his side, following Simon's instructions as they finished with calibration tests.

Finally, they were given the “okay" to go. By that point, Conner's eyes were drooping, and his LED had slowed its spin to an almost lazy pace. Hank thanked Simon and the other technicians, then guided Connor out of New Jericho and called a taxi.

As they waited, Markus found them again and assured them that all of the official work was being taken care of, and that Hank had two weeks off while Connor had been given a month. Connor briefly let go of Hank to give Markus a hug, the spinning yellow of Markus's LED the only indicator of the silent conversation they were having. Once Connor broke the embrace and grabbed Hank's arm, Markus extended a hand to Hank, who shook it solidly.

The taxi arrived and they were off, returning to the house just as promised. They rode in silence, with Connor leaning bonelessly into Hank's side, his LED still that bright yellow color.

It stayed yellow as the taxi pulled up outside their house.

It stayed yellow as Hank unlocked the front door and Connor was immediately encircled by Sumo.

It flashed red when Connor looked up. Hank followed his line of sight and cursed, hurrying over to shut the bathroom door and turn off the light he had left on.

Hank left Connor alone for a few minutes so they could both change into pajamas, and when he returned to the living room, Connor’s LED was back to yellow.

Tossing the paper plate he had used for dinner into the garbage, Hank turned toward Connor. "Do you want to stay up a little longer? Watch somethin' on TV? Or do you wanna just go to bed?”

Connor wrapped his arms around himself. "I would like to go to bed.”

“Alright," Hank said. He flipped off the kitchen light, leaving the living room solely illuminated by the yellow of Connor's LED.

Connor entered his room, with Sumo following dutifully behind. The deviant climbed into bed, and Hank tucked the covers around him. Sumo needed no prompting to jump up onto the mattress, his head resting on Connor's feet.

Hank brushed a hand through Connor's hair. "Anything you need?”

Connor grabbed the hem of Hank's t-shirt, the fabric pinched tightly in his fingers. "Don't go,” he said quietly. He wouldn't look up at Hank.

“Alright," Hank said. "Scoot over.”

Connor moved (to Sumo's dismay) and Hank slid under the duvet next to him, turning off the bedside lamp and settling in for the night. As soon as Hank stopped moving, Connor moved closer and rested his head on Hank's chest. In turn, Hank moved his arm around Connor, securing him in place.

He pressed a kiss into Connor's hair. "G'night, Connor.”

“Goodnight," Connor returned.

He took a deep breath, and the yellow LED switched to blue.

**Author's Note:**

> So there we go! Not quite the end of healing for Connor, but the ending of this story, nonetheless. I hope it was as cathartic as you hoped!!!
> 
> Again love to the Discord group ❤️ I'm glad you guys like my stuff so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️


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